typical

So much for the promise to update more regularly. Goodness. Well, I'm still (somewhat) alive, still grinding along...though I have developed two secret fantasies since I last checked in at this blog. Namely:

1) Run away from grad school and become a professional poker player (aka become an internet sloth-loser who spends 14+ hours a day clicking away at a computer whilst chugging Red Bull and stuffing face with crappy, cold pizza).
Obstacles: Have not actually learned how to properly play poker
Solution: Totally planning to buy poker books and practice online this winter break
Cause of delusion: Way too much watching of internet poker (pokertube.com baby)
Reality check: Hey! Lots of professional poker players either have PhDs or else quit right before dissertating...

2) Run away from grad school, go to China, start working at a bakery/accessories shop/does it really matter?, and engage in a horribly cliched and normative romance with an earnest Chinese boy who will think we will have gotten to some kind of base when we hold hands for the first time (with cheesy C-pop swelling in the background, of course. Or fireworks.)
Obstacles: My Chinese skills are, uh, not so stellar (to put it mildly)
Solution: ...I hear immersion is good for that business?
Cause of delusion: Do I really need to say it? Asian soap operas! (mysoju.com, crunchyroll.com, dramacrazy.net, I hope these sites ruin your life as much as they have ruined mine)
Reality check: Ok, this one might be ludicrous enough that I don't need a reality check.

In more serious news, I've determined that grad school life consists of: work, bitching about work, procrastinating on your computer while you should be doing work, and occasionally roaming around the one mile radius of your apartment/library/department and "hanging out" with other graduate students while feeling guilty about not working. I seem to always be doing some variation of one of these things. Horrible. Its gotten to the point where I know I don't see anyone but grad students and it's actually a shocking improvement if I see someone outside of my friend M (whose futon I am constantly studying/crashing on).

On the upside, I have been to several interesting talks in the last month (Fred Moten and Junot Diaz, most notably), and I've also got a feminist pedagogy seminar coming up that I'm totally looking forward to. I've finished with all of my presentations (hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!) and am also starting to really think about final papers (though thinking about does not actually equal having concrete topics, unfortunately).

I've also registered for classes next semester. The list of classes include:
1) 18th century Orientalism and global trade from China to the West Indies, focusing on issues of mercantilism, luxury, and consumption

2) Critical Race Theory (legal texts...very nervous about this, as my super brilliant and intimidating advisor is teaching this class)

3) Course on the history and theory of social stigma (drawing on queer theory, critical race, and disability studies)

4) Auditing another anthropology course (you know me, always gotta do it!) on culture, identity, and power.

Anyways, I really, REALLY will try harder to update from here on out (I know, I know, says the one who promised the same thing over a month ago). But expect an update this coming Friday (or Saturday), because a hugely contentious and controversial meeting amongst the English grad students is slated for that day. And with that juicy tidbit...

procrastination, procrastination, procrastination

You know, when you put off updating a blog for a damned long time (in this case, about a month, and that month being the first month of the first semester of your first year), you get into this vicious cycle of constant delay because you figure, hell, what's one more delayed rant about a mini crisis in the whole long scheme of things. Well, I'm trying to break out of that cycle and start updating more regularly, so here goes a quick recap of whats been going on with me/revelations from the past few weeks:

-Whoever told me my rigorous undergrad education would make grad school seem like a breeze LIED. All I do is work, watch trashy tv to let my brain rest, and bitch about all the fun I'm missing out on. 9-5? Yeah, I WISH.

-Sometimes I feel like I'm in the wrong program. I don't speak at all in my English classes, but for some reason, have no problem talking all the damned time in my Anthro classes. Hrm. Part of this is my total lack of understanding of the English lens, but I think the other part is that I just don't really care about aesthetics/aesthetic concerns. There, I said it.

-I have officially humiliated myself by crying in the office of one of my academic idols. This was prompted by her question "So why are you in an English program," which led to panic and tears and me interpreting that question to be rhetorical and a blinding insight into my total lack of suitability for the study of literature. Which it wasn't and she totally didn't mean. But, you know, it kind of sucked at the time.

-Readings for my classes seem to follow a consistent theme. It's almost as if my profs are deciding on their syllabi together...Week 1 was Marx/Hegel/Kant, Week 2 was Freud/Lacan, and Week 3 was Derrida (aka the week I tried unsuccessfully to throw myself out the window of my basement apartment)

-I, uh, am apparently the representative for the first years in our grad school version of student government. This is what happens when you are one of only two years who show up to a meeting (BECAUSE YOU ARE ENTICED BY THE PIZZA. Kids, let this be a lesson to you! Gluttony is bad!)

-Am thinking about starting a radical pedagogy reading group. Though how I'm going to manage to do even MORE reading on top of the five classes I have, the two reading groups I'm already part of, and the reading group my adviser wants me to start (tracing the work of some theorist, his suggestion is "Judy" Butler HA), I have no idea. I'm starting to think I'm just asking for more trouble.

-My life outside of grad school is zero. Ergo my personal life is zero. The two options I was half-heartedly pursuing didn't work out (ok, so maybe one is still working out, but I don't want it to because frankly, while this girl is quite attractive, I am terribly bored by her), and honestly, I'm starting to think I'm not capable of being actually interested in anyone right now. That said, I'm meeting some fabulous friends outside of my program, including M in the history program and R in communications. Hurrah qpoc!

-I'm thinking about writing my final paper for one of these classes on the MTV show From G's to Gents. Oh yes, I am totally becoming a Serious Academic (but seriously...constructions of black masculinity? Male fraternity/homoeroticism? Issues of intention/reception/audience? It's a goldmine!)

-Speaking of which: I AM GOING TO AN ACADEMIC TALK ON R. KELLY AND TRAPPED IN THE CLOSET THIS WEEK. (Highlight of my day/week/month? Undoubtedly!)

-Ok, and I also recently attended a talk given by David Scott, who had this amazing discussion on the generational differences in experiences of temporality in Granada. I put this in not only because it was a really thought-provoking paper, but also to make it seem like I actually do attend legit academic functions (HA).

I can't really think of any more things that have happened offhand, but I think those points kind of cover the major things that have been going on with me. While I have been angsting about/questioning my preparedness, intelligence, and suitability (a lot, a lot), I figure we all have to start from somewhere, and I might as well use my panic to move forward and work hard(er).

That said, expect a frazzled, panicky, self-doubting post sometime in the near future. What good's a blog if I can't rant and bitch and totally freak out, right?

Apologies for the long delay! Grad school is in full swing, and I'm definitely getting my ass kicked. Between the readings (I'd say around 300-400 pages a week per class, keeping in mind I'm taking four classes and auditing one), talks, random reading groups/events (just got elected as a representative for the first years in the graduate group), and so on, its been one hectic ride...but I will be updating soon!

umm

So I went to a grad students party last night that was thrown by (and comprised of predominately) Comparative Literature people, and I have to say, I was seriously, seriously underwhelmed. C warned me beforehand that a lot of grad parties are like clique-y networking events, and furthermore, every Comp Lit party she'd ever been to was "filled with people talking loudly in various different languages just to show that they can."

She was basically right. While I can't (and wouldn't want to) say that I didn't like the people that I did meet (ok, minus this really creepy German lit guy who hit on me in the most awkward way possible...I think he thought that telling me the Greek or Roman or whatever meaning of his name was supposed to impress me or something), it was really hard to interact with people that I didn't already know beforehand.

On the upside, I met another girl who's in my cohort, and she seems pretty fabulous. She's 30 (!!!), but looks 24 (double !!!!), and has been teaching in LA for the past few years.

All in all, I guess I'm glad that my first experience with a grad party was so lame because it can only go up from there, right? Lets hope, because my orientation is tomorrow, and there is plenty of food, alcohol, and schmoozing that's scheduled throughout the day and night.

I finally got an email back from the anthropology professor whose class I wanted to audit but couldn't (and let me just say, it's so WEIRD to me to have professors not respond to my emails immediately. Being at a small liberal arts college spoiled the fuck out of me...I start getting paranoid that profs hate me or else have decided to ignore me completely when I don't get a response within a day, which apparently is unheard of at larger universities), and it turns out that the class might be moved to a time that wouldn't conflict with my schedule. I can't even express how fucking amazing that would be (I am honestly more excited about this course than most of the courses I'm taking in my own department this semester), but I'm trying not to get my hopes too high in case it still doesn't work out.

In other news, the classes for the spring semester have come out...and once again, I am nerding out over the delicious, delicious possibilities. We're supposed to take only three courses for the semester, but there are four that I refuse to choose between, so I guess I'll just do the whole audit thing again. Right now (having only seen the course names and not the descriptions), I plan on taking the courses on 18th-century orientalism, critical race theory, and stigma (my first psychoanalytic theory class in grad school!) while auditing the course on Deleuze. I am seriously crossing my fingers that there won't be any amazing options in the anthropology department, because apparently we're only allowed one audit per semester (and I've already been warned by the upper-classmen that auditing is just stupid and will lead to the death of me/my social life). On the other hand, my undergraduate experience didn't exactly prepare me for a life of partying and funtimes, so worse comes to worse, I'll do my audit and try to see if the anthro profs will let me just sit in on the course.

Finally, I'd like to share a concert video that a friend of mine (T) sent me a while back. It's Chris Brown's "Take You Down," and it's one of those videos that I just can't make up my mind about. On the one hand, I'm terribly amused by the horrible pelvic thrusts and of course leerily appreciative of his (and his backup dancers) hot bodies (nevermind his age, lets just pretend that his being legal is all that matters). But on the other hand, I'm really disturbed by the fact that there are screaming 12 year old girls (and possibly boys!) in the audience watching this...but then, am I trying to limit childrens/teens sexuality? Am I naive to not realize that they're probably exposed to just as explicit (if not more) images in their day-to-day lives? Videos like this make me feel seriously old and un-hip (alright, and possibly like a pedophile for drooling over Chris Brown). Anyways, here's the link to the video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NLRE8z94VbU

Thoughts? Comments? Jokes about the dance moves?

ah whew

Got an email today from Professor E. He seemed totally fine, and in fact, invited me out to a meeting during happy hour. Sweet! Reading that helped me to resolve that I'm just going to keep being myself and let other people worry about kissing ass/getting onto good sides.

In other news, I've been really liking my two cohort-mates in the apartment complex. C and M are fabulous and sweet, and while they basically have mountains more knowledge about English than me, they are totally cool with explaining every tiny detail (and trust me, I ask what are probably incredibly stupid questions to English people...so guys, what's Romanticism? Graveyard school? Huh?) and have already told me that they're willing to help me out in any way possible. It feels good to be back in a supportive learning environment...I guess I had always expected that it would be this way, but hearing about other people's experiences on the undergrad/masters level made me really afraid that it wasn't going to happen here (I mean, for godssakes, one of the fourth years flat out told us not to tell our professors if we were predominately focused on teaching. Apparently my program is only interested in producing academic superstars, so if you -gasp- dare to admit your desire to be at a liberal arts college, they will "invest less in you.")

Regardless, classes start next Wednesday, with a day-long orientation on Tuesday. I've been busy getting my student ID, opening a bank account, and rushing about trying to get my immunizations/health records straight (apparently I'm missing a tetanus requirement...I guess my old school didn't require one/didn't worry about me stepping on rusty nails and dying).

In the relationship/hookup area: B (yes, the infamous booty texter) called me last night and we ended up talking til four in the morning. I still have no interest whatsoever in actually dating him, but it's nice to chat about poetry and life with someone who's also trying to get settled in to post-college life. Also, in more actually meaningful to me news, the person that I care most about (guy I was with for two and a half years), N, is going to China this Friday. He'll be there for a year doing a program through JHU, and I can't even process right now what it means for me to not really be able to see or contact him (well, alright, lets be honest, I bought a calling card) on a regular basis.

It's funny how summer has been so relaxed for me (minus the whole ridiculous drama with the girl), but now, things are picking up and it'll be time again for me to go back to the only thing I really know. Can I also point out how really damned depressing it is for me to write (and have it be true) that the only thing that I really know is motherfucking school!

error! error!

School has not yet started (and in fact is a week away), but I have somehow already managed to commit a faux pas of potentially massive proportions.

To rewind: I had dinner tonight at a cute Korean restaurant with two people in my cohort, two fourth-year students, and an MA candidate. The conversation turned to politics in academic departments/the professors in our program, and in the course of the ensuing discussion, my advisor's name was brought up. Now this man, Professor E, is one of my academic idols. Not only was my personal statement basically an ode to his work, but my specific research interests are completely influenced by his scholarship. In other words, I need to get on his good side and camp out/build a three-story house there, because I will undoubtedly take all of his classes and fully intend on asking him to be my dissertation advisor.

The problem: according to W, one of the fourth-years who is also working with him, Professor E is a "diva" who needs to be massaged (his words, not mine!) more than the other faculty members. To get on his good side, one should constantly bring up topics he's interested in (and let him go on and on about them), and above all, always be respectful/show proper awe of his genius. Key words there: "respectful" and "proper awe."

Now anyone who knows me will know that I have a problem writing emails to professors. For some reason, I don't censor my words whatsoever and the resulting missives look like chummy (read: wildly inappropriate) correspondences that I would send to my closest friends. From admitting that I was cutting a professor's class because I had pulled an all-nighter to write his paper (which, to my defense, I attached in the email) to laying out my relationship drama in another TMI moment, I have basically written an unfortunate number of hilarious, but far from respectful, emails. (For some reason, this never came back to bite me during college, but I suspect that the small liberal arts college environment meant that all of my professors were incredibly friendly/down-to-earth, and oftentimes treated the students like colleagues).

Anyways, halfway through the conversation at dinner, I had a sudden, horrifying realization: I had sent Professor E an email about two days ago regarding a meeting that we were supposed to have during the first week of classes. While I didn't remember exactly what I had said, I knew that it was written in classic "me" fashion, and when I came home and checked the actual text, my worst fears were confirmed. Not only did I apologize for the "somewhat lateness" of the email, but I had blamed this tardiness on "summer senility" and then signed the correspondence with "hope your summer went swimmingly."

Somehow, I don't think that is going to be taken as a sign of respect/proper awe of genius, and as someone who is probably not used to student email-writing styles like mine, I'm not sure how Professor E will take it. In any case, I am terrified that he thinks that I'm disrespectful or else am blowing him off with attitude, and has formed some kind of horrible impression of what type of person/student I am. Oh why did I let our hour-long conversation about trashy reality shows (during the admitted students dinner) lull me into a false sense of security? New end-of-the-summer resolution: learn to write proper, respectful emails ASAP!

on sex, awkwardness, and things that are simultaneously funny and personally mortifying

While I've never been one to be shy of the college, and now "real world," hookup culture (and at one point this summer was casually seeing three people at the same time...oh the life of a young city dweller!), there has been a certain, supposedly common experience that managed to elude me: the booty call. Yes, that wonderfully brazen, often drunken, propositioning of an individual that you are not interested in knowing beyond the biblical sense of the word.

Well, that tender innocence of mine (hah!) is tragically no more. Last night, around 2 in the morning, I was awakened by a text. To be more specific: a booty call text (or should it just be called a booty text?) from a guy that I dated earlier in the summer but was no longer really seeing (it was one of those unfortunate end of the college year hookups that bleeds into the first parts of summer. Plus we had made it exclusive, which was just stupid given the context, but that's another story).

Anyways, after trying to determine if I should allow my slight sense of horror (I mean, really, he couldn't call? He had to freaking text?!) to outweigh my total amusement over what was happening, I decided to just let myself be charmed by the absurdity of the situation (I mean, my first booty call! What a milestone!) and let him come over.

Of course, this whole business was made all the more special by the fact that he didn't leave afterward, but instead, came with me the next morning to the farmer's market/lunch outing that I had set up with one of the girls in my program, C. Now normally this wouldn't necessarily be awkward or embarrassing, except that I had helped C move into her apartment the previous night (she's in the same complex as me) and hung out with her until midnight, when we went back to our rooms to "sleep." Though I was clearly alone when she last saw me (and when I told her that I was tired and going to bed), I somehow had a guy in my apartment by the time she came back in the morning (and given his rather disheveled look and the fact that I hadn't mentioned him when we initially made plans, I doubt that she thought he had just dropped by for the trip). In other words, I am totally making the most awesome and professional first impression on my cohort-mate/person I'm spending the next six years with.

In the end, though, the way that I figure it is that at least I've gotten a funny story out of my first booty call (which was, of course, undoubtedly made all the more booty by the fact that it wasn't even a call, but rather, a text). Who knows, maybe someday I'll stop being able to joke about the ridiculous/embarrassing moments that constitute my life (or maybe I'll develop enough tact or fear of social disapproval that I won't regale these stories quite so publicly). But for now, I'm damned glad that I don't (and don't have to) give a shit about what others think of me or my choices. It feels good to be able to just laugh at myself and look forward to whatever other ridiculousity that may/will be coming my way.

books, mates, and pests

The great thing about having friends with excellent reading tastes is that you inevitably get introduced to new works of literature (or, in my case, hover above their bookshelves and surreptitiously steal their favorites when they're not looking). Most recently, having crashed with my friend R twice in the past four days (once for a potluck, once for a charming -albeit ultimately boring- silent film in the park near her house), I have had the extreme pleasure of reading Jhumpa Lahiri's Unaccustomed Earth and Rabih Alameddine's The Hakawati. I would recommend both without hesitation--Unaccustomed Earth is, as Lahiri's writing always is, understated but powerfully moving, while The Hakawati had me laughing out loud with its wry, witty humor. (Also: did I just do one of those vague, adjective-driven book reviews that really tells you nothing about the book? Yes. Gross. Please forgive me now.)

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately?), my classes start on September 3, so I will have less time for engrossing novels, and instead, will probably be suffering my way through Shakespeare or some other incomprehensible and yet canonical work whilst still trying my damnedest to keep up with my theory. The Anthropology professors still haven't emailed me back about the syllabus or the audit, but I'm going to wait a few more days before sending another friendly request (at least for the audit).

Classes starting also means my cohort is starting to slowly trickle into the city. One of the girls in the program (who happens to live in my building) is coming on Friday, while another two that I know are moving in within the week. It's exciting and nervewracking to have them come--I worry about getting along with them (I mean, it's a damned long program and there's so few of us!), but I'm also excited to make new friends. Which is also complicated because hell, I went to school right outside of the city for four years, and guess what, I already have amazing friends in the city that I plan on spending my time with. It's a tricky balancing act, and I'm not sure how it's going to work out...but dammit, I will work it out, I will be a social butterfly (HA), I will be a maker of new friends and a keeper of old ones as well. Go team!

Anyways, on the home front: the mice have managed to eat the peanut butter clean from two of my traps while still remaining alive (and not even setting them off at all!). They are clearly taunting me. I re-baited my traps (alas, more delicious peanut butter lost to the cause!) and am waiting to avenge myself for this latest humiliation. THIS MEANS WAR!

oh fail

Came home last night to find a big fat mouse slinking across my stove top.

This in addition to the two massive cockroaches I've killed and the one that scurried to safety underneath my bookshelf.

Today (aka Day 1 of Operation Extermination): dispersed Raid roach killer tablet things (I'm assuming there's boric acid in there) and mousetraps. Was slightly bitter about having to bait the traps with JIF extra-crunchy peanut butter. What a waste of my favorite snack.

one month later

And hopefully this time I'll stick around. I've been busy with life in general: going out to bars and clubs and dance parties (and throwing a few myself), attending amazing performances (such as one last week exploring the relationships between food, personal identity, and power/politics), and getting myself into (and out of, thankfully!) some sticky situations with relationships (lesson of the summer: extreme attractiveness does not surmount personal issues/craziness. Really. It's not a fair tradeoff at all, and one should not be tempted by one's lust/poor decision making abilities/inability to draw boundaries slash say no to justify such a tradeoff. It's bad news, kids).

After a weeklong visit from my friend T and the accompanying flurry of events and meet-ups with other friends in the area, I'm now happy to say that I am settled in my apartment and ready to return to my hermit-y (and academically productive!) ways. On the list: get through my readings for one of my classes (and write summaries for each of the readings, yes I've decided to be ridiculously anal like that) and continue making time for my "just for fun/personal interests" books. I'm currently working my way through The Erotic Margin: Sexuality and Spatiality in Alteritist Discourse, which explores the ways in which space is transformed (socially produced and reproduced) into place through particular discourses, or more specifically, the ways in which the "East" or "Orient" is constructed through discourses of gender and sexuality. I'm only on the second chapter, but I find the book incredibly interesting and relatively not dense (all things considering) and would definitely recommend it to anyone with the time and/or interest.

In other news, I've been pretty productive (in an unproductive way) today, and so far, I've managed to:
1) Request to be added to the mailing lists of the postcolonial lit and gender/sexuality reading groups of my program

2) Ask for the syllabus of this amaaazing graduate anthropology course that explores agency, temporality, and sovereignty in relation to travel and migration (and which I can't audit because I have another class at the same time, TEARS)

3) Request an audit in another course which is supposed to be a critical examination of contemporary theories in cultural and social anthropology

4) Make a (required) appointment with my department chair during the first two weeks of classes (which start in early September, EEK!)

...

Ok, so maybe all of those things took about 30 minutes to accomplish (minus the researching of graduate anthropology courses, aka me poring over course descriptions and drooling like an extremely dorky kid in an extremely dorky candy store). And possibly came after about 3-4 hours of watching Olympics highlights/reruns online (what can I say, I like gymnastics and diving!)

Alright, no more procrastination from me. Off to the summary writing and reading!

back again

And most importantly...with internet! I'm not going to lie, the time I spent without it was hellish (I know, can you hear the privilege oozing out of me right now?), and I am definitely glad to be clicking away obsessively wasting my time again. I spent a lot of my time re-reading of old books and theory, which was admittedly quite pleasant, but then things quickly devolved to the point where I started wiping my floors by hand and alphabetizing my bookshelves. Yes. Really.

On the upside, I got quite a bit of time to think, re-watch old seasons of the L Word (such an amazing and trashy show!), and almostkindofsortof get vague itchings to write poetry. Alas, such scratchy moments never materialized into anything solid, but you know, it's good to get those vibes again and I have much hope that things will turn out alright for my poetic inspirations.

As my writing of this entry also indicates, I have not yet been killed, traumatized, or even mildly mugged. Harassment has only come in the form of catcalls, which lets not kid ourselves, any woman between the ages of 15-35 should expect in a city. Knock on wood that the trend continues (minus the catcalls, of course).

I've also ventured into the city a few times, mainly to go to bars with friends, most notably to attend a dance party featuring Brazilian and French pop from the 60s, 70s, and 80s, and then to watch the Smoking Popes perform an amazing show (which unfortunately was ended by an extremely creepy and drunk old man constantly sidling up to me and trying to talk/touch me despite at one point being physically removed from me by his much more socially appropriate friend). Tonight involved some really moving musical narratives featuring a puppet group for social justice (shadow puppets = so fucking beautiful, just need to get that out there), and then a stint at one of the few bars in the city that still allows smoking indoors.

Tomorrow's plans are lunch in Chinatown and an ice cream festival during the day, while night will find me twirling away at the last queer dance party of a particular host before they head to the Bay area. Life is good. And I have faith that it will get better.

mystery solved!

It turns out that the random emailer found my information on my program's website and only made a lucky guess that I was also into postcolonial literature. I've been corresponding back and forth with him over the past week and a half, and I have to say, it's quite interesting to exchange ideas with someone whose background and current context are so different from my own. I recently turned 22 years old (my birthday was on the 24th!) and have jumped straight from undergrad to a Ph.D. program. My e-pal is probably in his 40s (this guess based on the pictures he sent), married with two children (ages 12 and 14), and has an MPhil in International Relations and is working on an MA in English.

In other news, I move back to my apartment on Saturday and will officially be living alone for the first time in my life. I'm pretty nervous about it, though apparently not as nervous as some of my friends are for me. I've heard from quite a few of them that they've had conversations amongst themselves about how badly my first year alone can potentially go. Chief concerns include:

1) My horrible habit of smiling at or enduring conversation from random strangers (I can't help it! I'm from the Midwest, dammit!)

2) What can only be kindly termed as my sheer ridiculousness/impracticality/lack of life skills (as one good friend put it, "I have these visions of the lights going off in your apartment and you not knowing what to do about it." Me: "So true. Touche. Touche.")

3) The way I become a crazy hermit when I'm left to my own devices (namely: I burrow into my room and basically fall off the face of the planet. All the while, my mind wanders into strange crevices of the universe and folds in on itself, usually in ways that do not enhance my already degraded social skills)

4) Me + alcohol (I don't really drink anymore, so when I do, I tend to get smashed, and I'm not using that word lightly) + no one to walk me home + my horrible sense of surroundings (not only do I have no concept of directions, but I'm also ridiculously unobservant. I don't notice when people I'm looking for are literally two feet away from me, which doesn't bode well for walking the streets of a major city at night)

On the upside, though, I have two months before the program starts to feel everything out and hopefully become more of a seasoned individual (seasoned at...life? Apartment-dwelling? Not being a sheltered child? Hmm...the possibilities are endless!). On the downside, I won't have internet service until July 7, so I will be unable to post until then.

Lets all cross our fingers that I don't go wacky from the lack of internet (I compulsively check my email at least 15+ times a day) or else have some other kind of horrible disaster befall me. Positive thoughts, people! Positive thoughts!

strange connections

Came across an unexpected email in my inbox this morning from a person claiming to be an MA student in Pakistan with an interest in postcolonial literature. I have no idea how they got my personal email (or knew that I was into postcolonial lit), but I went with it and responded to their inquiries with a little novel about my particular academic interests (once you get me started babbling about that sort of thing, it's kind of hard to stop. Plus, what better way to spend my time when I'm bored at home than meeting a new friend?)

Has this sort of thing happened to anyone else before? I'm a huge fan of correspondences and a generally trusting person (I mean, they weren't selling me penis enhancements or overtly trying to get my bank account information!), but I don't want to be suckered into some scam that I'm not even aware of...I guess I do find it really strange that they knew my email and academic interests. To the best of my knowledge, I don't have any connections to anyone in Pakistan, nor do any of the profs that I've worked with on the undergraduate level.

The only thing is that my name and email are now on the website of my program. While I'd rather not reveal my specific school here, I will say that it's an Ivy, so maybe the person just decided to randomly email me based on an interest in my program? They did say they were interested in pursuing further graduate study in the US...But that still wouldn't explain how they know that I'm into postcolonial lit because that particular tidbit of information isn't available on the site. Furthermore, my intentions are to focus primarily on Asian American lit, so even if I did have a bio somewhere about my research interests, it wouldn't mention that...

Oh, the mysteries of the internet! I seem to be the queen of random communications (I've gotten quite a few messages out of the blue in my day), so perhaps I'll just chalk it up to my good fortune in this area. In any case, I'll keep you all updated (just as you should let me know if I'm being drawn into some scam!)

must.not.abandon.blog

Now that I'm home and relaxing, I've been really neglecting this blog (though to my defense, I guess it could be said that I've been neglecting all things academic). While I have definitely not been reading articles every day like I initially planned, I have been going through a good amount of poetry and reading bits and pieces of prose, particularly from Winesburg, Ohio, which is definitely one of my favorite books of all time.

I've also officially signed up for classes for this upcoming semester. My first courses in grad school will be:
-A required seminar for my cohort (which, incidentally, is all women!) which will examine the impact that debates in critical and cultural theory have made on the discipline of English literature

-A course on globalization and the early modern period in England, particularly focusing on the first moments of global contact and the ways in which modern global relations have influenced our understanding of the early modern world and vice versa

-A class on Modernism and Orientalism, with a particular emphasis on the work of American poets and the structure of American Orientalism

-(what I'm probably most excited for) A course on the construction and performance of blackness, with a particular section on queerness. Hurrah!

And because I'm probably the only person excited about these classes, I'll close this entry with my favorite poem right now (definitely something that everyone can enjoy):

Edward's Anecdote
-Donald Hall

Late one night she told me.
We'd come home from a party
where she drank more wine
than usual, from nervousness

I suppose. I was astonished,
which is typical,
and her lover of course
was my friend. My naivete

served their purposes: what
you don't know beats your head in.
After weeping for an hour or so
I tried screaming.

Then I quieted down;
then I broke her grandmother's
teapot against the pantry brickwork,
which helped a bit.

She kept apologizing
as she walked back and forth,
chainsmoking. I hated her,
and thought how beautiful

she looked as she paced,
which started me weeping again.
Old puzzlements began to solve
themselves: the errand

that took all afternoon;
the much-explained excursion
to stay with a college roommate
at a hunting lodge

without a telephone;
and of course the wrong numbers.
then my masochistic mind
printed kodacolors

of my friend and my wife
arranged in bed together.
When I looked out the window,
I saw the sky going

pale with dawn; soon the children
would wake: thinking of them
started me weeping again.
I felt exhausted, and

I wanted to sleep neither
with her nor without her,
which made me remember:
when i was a child we knew

a neighbor named Mr. Jaspers-
an ordinary
gray and agreeable
middle-aged businessman who

joked with the neighborhood
children when he met us on
the street, giving us pennies,
except for once a year

when he got insanely drunk
and the police took him.
One time he beat his year-old
daughter with a broomstick,

breaking a rib bone, and as
she screamed she kept crawling
back to her father: where else
should she look for comfort?

oy

So I've been meaning to do a lot of academic reading/summary-writing this break to prepare myself for grad school (and to my defense, I downloaded a bunch of really delicious articles that I can't wait to get started on!), but instead I find that I've been rereading my childhood classics. Last night's batch included: A Little Princess, Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, and Ballet Shoes. Tonight: Heidi. It's pretty sick, but I just get so damned happy when I read that stuff, even though now, with a more critical lens in place, I realize that there's quite a few problematic areas in these old favorites. Ah well, I guess I just have to contextualize and forgive.

Speaking of contextualizing and forgiving, I finally saw the Sex and the City movie this afternoon. While I very much enjoyed it (the tv show got me through a rough breakup my freshmen year, so I'll always have a soft spot for the girls), I was also horrified by quite a few moments (especially the incredibly size-ist moment near the end with Samantha ,who, lets not shit ourselves, is totally fine and fit even with her so-called "pooch"). And don't even get me started on Don't Mess with the Zohan, which some of my friends unfortunately dragged me to a couple of days ago. I think my problem is that college has completely sapped me of my sense of "humor" (if that's what you want to call it) and heightened my sensitivity/critical response to certain jokes. Ah well, I suppose it's worth giving up a few cheap laughs if I'm more aware/sensitive to the assumptions/plays of power that are going on beneath the surface of particular "humorous" stereotypes. (Wow, that last statement sounded horribly elitist/pretentious. Forgive me as I stroke my beard sagaciously.)

Moving on, my days have mainly been filled with trying to relax and de-stress. I have started calling up some old friends to hang out (which I generally find stressful because I only go home twice a year, and generally for short periods of time, so there's a lot of people to see). We'll see how it goes. It's strange, most of us graduated this year, and so many people that I remember from way back in the day are going to grad school, getting jobs...gasp, growing up! It feels so strange...I still feel like a kid sometimes, like I'm play-acting this whole maturity business when all I want to do is hide in my bed and read Puffin/Apple classics all day. On the upside, though, I have three more weeks at home (where my mother will always make me feel like a kid...hah!) and then I move to my one-bedroom apartment near the university and start living completely by myself for the first time in my life.

...It feels so strange to type that. To even think that. Cue the old Toys R Us theme (I don't wanna grow up!) and the angst. Boohoohoo. Life goes on.

this past Sunday

I officially finished my undergraduate career. It was strangely anti-climactic, walking across the stage and shaking the hand of the President of the College, but I guess that's how it goes sometimes. There were no tears, no moments of intense nostalgia, but rather, a feeling of relief and the intense desire to go eat sushi (what can I say? My last name is near the end of the alphabet and the speeches dragged on for a bit! Also, it was a rather hot day, and I'm always game for sushi when it gets hot.)

I did, however, get choked up when I moved into my new apartment afterwards. For the first time in my life, I will be living absolutely and completely alone. I'm feeling incredibly apprehensive/nervous about it, but at the same time, I keep getting this sense of excitement for the future. While I don't doubt that it's going to be difficult (and that I will probably go a bit loopy, as I tend to do when there's no one around), I can't imagine that I won't get some good personal growth out of it as well. I guess we'll have to see.

For now, I'm at home in my cozy little Midwestern suburb, shopping away the hours and counting down the days til I move back into my apartment. I don't know that I'll be updating much in the coming weeks, but if I'm feeling productive, I may do some good (academic) reading and post some summaries. Otherwise, know that I'm lounging and enjoying myself thoroughly.

oh goodness

So I went to the rock/paper/scissors tournament last night and somehow made it to the semifinal match. I lost in the third round, third throw (oh the drama/tension! I chose scissors, he chose rock), but I don't feel too bad about it because: 1) I honestly think rps is mainly chance (though I guess with the top 2 guys there seemed to be some strategy involved) 2) I lost to the eventual champ, who with his win, set the City League (yes, there is apparently a league. And there was an official ref, with official ref-wear) record for most championships in a season.

So it goes.

i'm still alive! promise!

Apologies for neglecting to blog for such a long time. I finally finished all of my academic work last Friday (before then I was camped out in an academic building for four days and nights straight. I have to say, sleeping in my own busted bed has never felt so good!) and since then, I've really just been spending all of my time hanging out with friends, eating at yummy restaurants, and just appreciating the time I have left with them (graduation is June 1 for me).

Last week, my friends and I took a four hour study break and went to a bar to see Benni E. (http://www.myspace.com/bennipanama), Does It Offend You, Yeah? (http://www.myspace.com/doesitoffendyou), and Yo Majesty (http://www.myspace.com/yomajesty4life). Benni E. and Yo Majesty are both queer female hip hop acts (incidentally, I think something's going on with Yo Majesty...there are supposed to be three of them, but only one showed up and talked about difficulties with the group. Perhaps they're on the road to breaking up?) and I have to say that they were pretty fucking amazing. It's always nice to see qpoc holding it down...and there's nothing hotter than an empowered female performer.

The most ridiculous part of the night though was when I realized that one of my future profs at Penn was at the show and was rocking out directly next to me with her girlfriend. It was so funny and surreal (I said hi and gave her a hug) and really reminded me again that profs are people too and not just academic gods with no lives outside of writing theory. For some reason this is still a difficult fact for me to accept. I just want to idolize my profs, dammit!

Tonight I'm going to a paper-scissors-rock tournament (yes, really) and then a bar/club. It should be a pretty chill time, and until then, I plan on wasting my life watching Buffy (I am so unfortunately addicted to this show) and trolling around the internet. Good times!

quick check in/update

Apologies for my recent lack of posting. While the first draft of the thesis got finished, I'm still working on edits and grappling with final papers and projects while still trying to maintain some semblance of a social life--you know, this whole being a student thing always feels a lot more difficult than it should seem to be. I mean, on face, all it is is getting academic work done and partying. How difficult can it be? (Very, apparently)

Most recently, though, I've been occupied with worrying about a very close friend of mine (lets call her C), who is currently dating someone (E) with an ex who has a tendency to exhibit some really disturbing behavior. Aside from constantly sending E vicious emails about how much she hates and wants to hurt him, she's been similarly harassing C (including signing her up for a lot of weight loss spam mail) and has even tried to justify it by claiming that she only does so because it's the most effective way to hurt E.

In the last week, things have escalated to the point where the ex has stolen and smashed E's property and, completely unprovoked, dumped a coke on him when they happened to run into each other. I'm really starting to worry about E and C's safety, and I'm hoping that they resolve things soon by getting a restraining order. While they have tried in the past (this behavior has gone on this whole semester) to just ignore her, I think it's becoming clear that this is just not enough to make her stop. She's clearly unstable and completely irrational...and at this point, it's much better to be safe than sorry.

In any case, this whole business has made me think a lot about love and expectation and the (dare I say proper?) ways to deal with disappointment. In late December, a relationship that I thought would last for the rest of my life ended and, putting the ridiculousness of that sentiment aside, I was completely devastated. However, since then, I've been so grateful for the time we've had apart. We had been together for two and a half years, and by the end, we became completely different people (in a negative way) because of the relationship. We constantly got into fights (both verbal and physical), and it was really difficult for us to have positive interactions with each other.

We're still regularly speaking, and to be completely honest, we're both committed to getting back together once we've resolved our issues. However, that means working through our issues in civil ways while still continuing on with our lives (instead of planning our lives for each other). I think this has done heaps for both of us, and I'm beginning to believe again that we can end up with each other. That said, he's coming to graduation in about a month, so I'll reserve any more final statements for when I can see how things go when we're actually face to face.

last chances, last dances

I've always been a huge fan of random, potentially awkward personal risks, so I was really gratified last night to receive a facebook message from someone at my school who I have actually never met before. The message was a cute little note about how this person has always admired my personal style/comportment (yeah, what can I say, a little flattery never hurts), and that because the end of the year is fast approaching and an opportunity for a "natural" meeting hasn't come up, we should get together/get to know each other sometime.

Possibly creepy? Absolutely! But I don't tend to interpret things like that. I'd rather think about how awesome and brave it is to message someone you don't know and basically put yourself out there to possibly form a friendship. (Though I guess a full disclaimer would be that I have done such a thing in the past as well. The first person that I dated my freshmen year was a random sophomore that I had an international politics class with but had never spoken to, and the way that got started was that I sent the most hilarious and awkward email EVER.)

In any case, we'll see how the facebook friendship pans out. I sent back quite a long message and an offer to grab a meal sometime. Will I regret this? Possibly, but I really doubt it, even if it ends up going badly. As I said, I'm a huge fan of people who are willing to risk themselves and awkwardness to make a personal connection.

On a similar note, I got another facebook message today about a party that is being thrown this Saturday to celebrate seniors. Apparently the person who is throwing it wants permission to use my name/picture because he's "highlighting" some seniors. I'm pretty apprehensive about this because I haven't talked to this guy since freshmen year, but because it was such an intriguing request, I conditionally gave permission (contingent on him telling me exactly HOW he is using my name/image).

Finally, my oral defense went really, really well today. I'll write about this in more detail tomorrow after I get back from apartment hunting, but the main point is that it should be smooth sailing for me (fingers crossed!) for the rest of the year.

weekend recap!

The little scavenger hunt that I alluded to in the last post ended up being one of the most interesting/entertaining/ridiculous experiences that I've had in my college career. My awesome team ended up placing third (out of 22 registered teams!), and I have to say, I don't know if I'll ever participate in anything as simultaneously challenging and absolutely absurd.

Some of the things that I did:
-Gained employment at a car wash
-"Got freaky" on a mannequin in Macy's
-Researched where to buy a live chicken in my city, as well as contacted the local Humane Society so we could return it afterwards (my teammates carried this out, but I found the information)
-Rickrolled a dean
-Translated an entire chapter of Harry Potter into l33t (such a tragedy, actually, because I misread the task and we were only supposed to translate a paragraph)
-Went co-ed skinny dipping at six in the morning (fucking COLD)
-Slept only 40 minutes the entire 24 hour period and fasted the entire time (it was for points. Stupid, I know, but true)
-Got two people under the age of 18 to read one of the Vagina Monologues for the judges
-Got an 80 year old woman* to do the same

Some of the things my teammates did:
-Naked oil wrestled in front of a huge cheering crowd of people
-Used a dual douche/enema device
-Febreezed the entirety of one of the frats on campus
-Masturbated a la mysterious stranger (when you sit on your hands until they go numb and then masturbate) while crying to "Love Will Tear Us Apart" in the background AND FILMED IT FROM THE WAIST DOWN
-Railed garam masala (apparently this stuff BURNS) off an erect penis
-Gave a blowjob on the lawn of the college's president (as in not the student one, but the one that gets paid tons of money)
-Drank their own piss
-Suckled a cat
-Participated in an actual circle jerk (again, to the approving cheers of a shit ton of people)
-Came on some Tastykakes and then ate their own cum in front of the judges

While some of this stuff may sound horrible and demeaning, in the end, none of us felt like we did anything that we regretted (which is, I think, really important). Also, realize that I'm giving you the most ridiculous highlights (there were other, less shocking tasks, like offering to buy someone a "drank" T-pain style or calling your parents and telling them that you had gotten someone pregnant/were pregnant and sustaining the conversation for ten minutes). In the end, I think this is something I would never do again (obviously), but I am so incredibly happy that I did it once (and did it right!).

The funniest part is that this whole scavenger hunt is centered around 4/20, but no one on my team did a single drug and three of us didn't even get drunk in the entire 24 hour period of the event. When Sunday (the actual 4/20) rolled around, I was back in my favorite academic building, busily working away.

*This actually turned out to be a horrible idea. The woman that we found was pretty awful (though I guess somewhat hilarious if you could prevent yourself from being offended). When she asked me what I studied and I responded with "Sociology/Anthropology, Women's Studies, and English Literature," she asked me how I thought I was going to find a man who was willing to marry me. When I awkwardly tried to laugh and say it would be even harder because I'm going to grad school, she nodded wisely and told me that my marriageability was "going down" (my awesome teammate then tersely told her that "at least her hireability is going up").

Whilst reading the monologue (I had her do the "what my vagina would wear" because it was the least "obscene"), she commented "I suppose this is supposed to be funny," and then informed us that what her vagina would wear would be a penis "because that's what vaginas are made for." Upon seeing our shocked expressions (heterosexism! heterosexism!), she paused for another minute, and then said "Well, they're made for that and I suppose to be a birth canal."

The crowning moment came when we were leaving and she asked me where I was from "originally." When I said China, her response was, "Oh....so that's where you get that accent from." (Realize that I came to the United States when I was two years old, and I most assuredly do NOT have an accent whatsoever). I guess in some ways this woman was rather amusing (she told us that Jews brought civilization to most of the world and that she was quite upset that her son had married a Catholic), but in the end, I really question whether it was worth the whole ordeal just to get the points.

what is wrong with me/oh life

Chelsea Clinton is coming to speak at my campus soon, but I've decided not to go because I had already slated that particular day for shopping. Yes, those are seriously my priorities, and I am not ashamed to say it (plus, I've already seen her father speak, and in any case, I'm more interested in the parents than the daughter).

In less pathetic news, my oral defense for my thesis is scheduled for next Thursday. This is good because I'll have a week to prepare for the hour-long grilling, but is terrifying because I am usually dead in the mornings. We'll see how it goes. I'll definitely write up a more detailed explanation of my thesis and how the defense goes next week.

To bring the ridiculousness level back up again, I'm participating in a crazy scavenger hunt/event known as "crunkfest" this weekend (I mean, it's 4/20! And it's my last year of college. I have to do it up!). Events in previous years have included: a circle jerk, piercing of genitalia, getting Chuck Norris to call the judges, streaking as many on-campus buildings as possible, and getting a rival school's student to shave their pubes. As you can tell, it's going to get really fucking crazy.

My team's name is the ga(y)ze because we all identify as queer, and I think we're pretty ready to go all out since we're all graduating. We just spent three hours tonight working on our team flag (which is actually a huge structure made with a ton of stolen campus goods...SHHHH!), and I'd previously put in four hours cutting a bunch of eyes out of magazines (I know, so clever).

In any case, the opening ceremony for the event is this Friday at 6pm, so I'll basically be MIA from then til Sunday night. Good times!

curioser and curioser

I found out today that I'll be honored with some other students at a dinner next month by the organization that brings together/umbrellas the campus groups for students of color, queer students, and low-income and first generation college students. This is completely shocking to me because I barely do anything on campus (most of my time has been spent doing academic work or being a research assistant, I've been woefully inadequate with my participation in these groups), so I'm wondering if they've made some kind of mistake (or if the clout of one of my favorite professors has somehow enabled me to get this award). Of course, there's always the (strong) possibility that I'll be getting the same award that a friend of mine got last year--which is solely reserved for students of color who don't really do campus groups but focus on academics. We shall see.

In other news, I saw Melissa Li and Kit Yan of the group Good Asian Drivers perform. They were funny and absolutely fabulous, and I would definitely urge you to check out their myspace (which is linked on the website) and to attend their show, if possible. Here's my favorite piece that they did:



As for the ex, the visit went pretty well all things considering, minus some awkwardness when we were at the rugby social. See, socials are basically an excuse to drink (read: get smashed) and socialize after the game, which is a problem when you don't drink and also don't know anyone there. In hindsight, it was probably not the best choice of an activity, but unfortunately, it was also the only thing that was going on at the time. Ah, the perils of attending a small school in the suburbs!

potential drama/awkwardness: hi(gh). so it goes.

The rash that I wrote about in the previous entry ended up making my entire face swell a la animated chipmunk. It was so sexy. I went to the doctor, she told me I have some virus (erythema infectiosum, what?) and there's nothing that she can do to make it better except give me lots of anti-histamines that make me sleepy. Fantastic.

Last night, I braved the world and went to a production of Othello with my Shakespeare and Critical Theory class. It wasn't bad...but I really didn't like how Othello was portrayed (the switch from being dismissive of Iago's points to being jealous and tortured was way too abrupt, and the actor also chose to play up the epileptic fits, which unfortunately ended up being more comical than anything else).

Today, my ex from sophomore year of high school who I've kind of sort of kept in touch with over the years is coming to visit me for the weekend. I'm not sure how this is going to go, seeing as the last time I saw him was sophomore year of college (for a quick dinner), but who knows, stranger things have been thrown my way and ended up okay.

I think the main plans today are to go to a student art opening on campus and just hang out. Tomorrow, we're headed into the city to check out a record store and fancy vegan restaurant, and then coming back for my friend's senior art show. Saturday I'm dragging him to a rugby game (whee! it's been a while for me too), and Saturday night he'll be headed on his bus back to Louisville.

We'll see how it goes. I have faith that things will be great. And if not, at least I'll have a somewhat amusing story to tell.

if it isn't one thing, it's another

So to celebrate finishing my thesis (well, the first draft anyways), my friend Evan and I went on an alcohol and cigarette run yesterday to a nearby state with no sales tax on the stuff. 8 bottles of Andre (I shit you not) and four packs of Nat Shermans later, I realized that I essentially paid less for that haul than I normally do for a single article of clothing. Go figure.

Went to the student café that my friend manages afterwards and did my old, drunk self proud, but without the belligerence that normally accompanies. Unfortunately, I woke up this morning with a horrible rash on my face (wtf?), so I’m thinking that I’m either allergic to cheap alcohol (say it ain’t so!) or I’ve really got to clean my room because something is really messing with my skin.

I’m skipping class out of sheer vanity and crossing my fingers that this stuff goes away by tomorrow. I’m headed over to the student health center soon, so hopefully they’ll let me know what happened and how I can make it better.

In other news, I’m starting to worry about the oral defense of my thesis, which should happen sometime in the next two weeks. I have no clue who my second reader is, and my adviser (being overbooked and just back from maternity leave) hasn’t read anything but my introduction and the postmodernism chapter (this is also my fault because of my procrastination…she didn’t email me to make meetings, and I was totally fine with this because I basically hadn’t done any work). In any case, we’ll see how everything pans out…worst comes to worst, I’ll bomb it and have to make more revisions than initially anticipated. Regardless, I’m safely into grad school, so all that matters is actually graduating.

a more substantive post will follow later, BUT

71 pages without the bells and whistles of a table of contents, acknowledgements, and bibliography, 11 hours of sleep in the last 3 days, way too much pizza, convenience store chicken fingers, and energy drinks, and now, at 9:03 on this lovely Monday morning, I am motherfucking done with my undergraduate thesis.

DONE!

ah to be young (and free)

One of the best things that can happen to you at 3:45 in the morning whilst in the process of cracked-outedly writing your thesis (due Monday!) and chainsmoking: A call from an old friend informing you that ze has just done a line of coke and the ensuing hilarity of that conversation.

One of the best quotes in a night full of gems from others in the same thesis-fucked boat: "I told them that I had to go home and masturbate and they told me to do it in the bathroom, but I was like: 'I'm already sleep deprived. I need to use my sex toys to conserve energy!'"

an hour and a half of my life that i'll never get back

So I just came back from a talk on modesty given by Wendy Shalit, and I'm not sure if I have anything more to say than:

1) It's reassuring to know that you can spin two entire books out of shaky statistics and a methodology that is weaker than the one in my (still unfinished, mind you) senior thesis

2) My opinion of Williams just dropped to the negatives for letting someone who can't even make a logical statement graduate (and I'm not saying this because I disagree with her points. She would literally say something incredibly disputable and trail off with "yeah" or start with "We all know (insert something that no, we don't all know/believe)" and then somehow forget to show the logical route that took her to this conclusion)

3) See title. I think that when I'm on my deathbed, I'm going to be really bitter about this lost time

I mean honestly, I might have appreciated the kernel of what she was saying (we should create a space for women who don't want to be empowered solely through sexuality) except that she took it to this extreme degree where value judgments were being tossed around (she called it "allowing women to have 'higher' standards. Yes, as if women who want to be sexual somehow have 'lower' standards), marriage was the be-all-end-all conclusion (we should save ourselves for the "right person" and a solid marriage is the indicator of a successful life), and feminism was represented as this malignant force that somehow pathologizes women for not wanting to be overtly sexual (I mean for godssakes, which feminists was she reading? The white, middle-class ones preaching sexual liberation in the fucking 60s? Thanks for reducing feminism to ONE PART of the fucking SECOND WAVE!).

It was seriously a shitshow, and I wish there was a nicer way to say it, but there isn't. While Shalit seemed like a friendly and personally engaging (though not on a group level) person, the reality is that her talk was ill-prepared and disorganized, there was nothing intellectually deep (or even intellectual period; I think the talk as it was is better geared towards a middle-school audience) about her points, and honestly, it wasn't even worth going to because there was nothing thought-provoking or stimulating about it. Just an hour and a half of poor logic, awkward analogies, bad statistics, and overblown and oftentimes offensive conclusions.

woe

So I haven't felt the impulse to update recently, mostly because my main sources of preoccupation/concern (my cohort and the graduate visit) were resolved in an excellent fashion. The last few days have basically consisted of me avoiding my thesis work (two and a half chapters behind, and it's due in two weeks! woe!), watching Coffee Prince (so addictive! click here for episodes if you dare!), and attending some events at the queer conference on campus this week (most notably, I got to hear Gayatri Gopinath and Heather K. Love speak and also saw a really moving performance by Miriam Yalini Thambynayagam and Varuni Tiruchelvam).

Goals for the coming weeks:
1) Finish thesis (what will happen when I'm the only person in the history of the world to get into a Ph.D. program and still not manage to graduate college?)

2) Find a place to live next year (must decide how to maximize stipend and still be able to walk around my future neighborhood at night. while at it, must also figure out how to minimize the amount of walking involved in general -oh laziness!-. must not contribute to gentrification. must figure out if roommates are desirable. and so on.)

Impediments:
1) Bad tv (I am so weak! I have no self control! Why must Top Model, Girlicious, and Make Me a Supermodel tempt me so?!)

2) Senioritis (like woah. It is a deadly disease)

In any case, we'll see how everything goes. I will undoubtedly be posting more soon, if only to avoid actually working. As for tonight, there will be the huge (and somewhat infamous) party that caps off the queer conference every year, so I plan to fully participate (and by participate, I mean amusedly watch in my safe and sheltered position as bartender) the drunken and debauched revelry that will undoubtedly be involved.

admissions visit OVER

So after worrying myself for weeks about my cohort (too old! too boring! too much love for dead white men!), I am back from my admissions visit, refreshed (ok, not really; there wasn't nearly enough sleep involved) and incredibly excited about the coming fall. To start out with, my cohort = fabulous and not at all what I was expecting/dreading. While there are a good number of people who took time off, got their masters, etc., there are also two others besides me who are still undergrads, and it really wasn't noticeable who was older and/or who had more experience. Best of all, I really bonded with three people (one has my research interests, only flipped -postcolonial with a hint of Asian/American-, one is a totally fabulous qpoc with interests in Asian diasporic writing, one loves shopping and clubbing and is going to be my golddigging buddy -totally kidding, totally kidding-) and even had tentative roommate conversations with two of these lovely ladies.

With regards to the current grad students: again, FABULOUS. A lot of people have diverse interests and are also into theory, but regardless, they're all a really friendly and supportive bunch of people. (Also, apparently the third years are the "queer year," with 9 out of 11 grads self-identifying as queer. While my cohort cannot match these amazing statistics -I think there are only three of us who identify?-, we already have the most skewed gender ratio -at the visit, around 12 women to 2 men-. Dubious distinction, I know.)

As for the faculty...oh the faculty. Let me count the ways to love! They are so incredibly friendly (I know I keep repeating this adjective, but it's so true!) and collegial and it's seriously mindblowing considering the insane academic reputations that are involved. We had a dinner party at Professor L's house the first night, and I think I knew then that I was destined for the program. The crowning moment was when I was outside chainsmoking with Professors L* and E (both, incidentally, the reasons why I applied for the program) and talking about Project Runway, Big Brother, and a myriad of other bad programs (I mean really, who knew that academics were so into trashy reality shows? It was seriously amazing).

I think, more than anything, I was really reassured that my program is where I'm supposed to be. I kept worrying that I was an admissions mistake (I was the ONLY person there who wasn't an English/Literature major in college and seriously glazed over when people were telling me about their interests in Renaissance drama or modernist blah blah blah or whatever), but in the end, it was really good to connect with the professors on a really substantive level and (ego moment!) to be told by Professor S -who was on the admissions committee- that my application was one of the few that really stood out to her.

In any case, I've already turned in my deposit and official acceptance for the program, and at this point, am counting down the days til I get to go back and start my grad school career for real.

*L who, incidentally, "quit smoking" fourteen years ago. Apparently she survives by bumming cigarettes off of her students after seminars. LOVE

worrywart, me? hop hop!

So the date of my admissions visit is drawing near (I'm supposed to do the whole wine&dine this coming Monday and Tuesday), and I'm starting to get really worried about meeting my cohort. Now normally, I wouldn't really care so much about this sort of thing, but given the fact that there are only ten other people in my class and I'm going to be with them for the next six years, I think it's pretty fair for me to freak out. In no particular order, my fears are:

1) I'm going to be the youngest person in my cohort (and not youngest like oh hey, we're separated by half a year; more like oh hey, you took three years off after your undergrad, got a masters, and now you're six years older than me and we can't relate to each other at all)

2) They're going to be standard, boring English people (aka those interested in dead white men and little else. I can't help it, my academic background -soc/anth and women's studies- makes me really, really wary of these sorts of people!) and my head will fall off when I try to talk to them (alright, maybe I'm more concerned about the first half of this sentence than the second...)

3) They will be super legit and scarily intellectual and find me totally frivolous/trivial for loving fashion and buying pretty clothes and having an insatiable appetite for things like PerezHilton and ANTM and so on and so forth (the list of the trashy celebrity blogs and reality shows that I keep up with is both utterly phenomenal and utterly embarrassing)

4) They will be old, boring, and engaged/married, and I will be forced to troll around the campus, desperately looking for people who will be my friends and go out to clubs and bars with me (WOE)

Granted some of my worries are admittedly ridiculous, but I can't help it! I'm seriously so nervous to meet everyone, and I just hope that I can find one person (alright, maybe I'm really aiming for three or four. High standards!) who I can really get along/engage with. We'll see how it goes. I'm keeping my fingers crossed, and I will definitely keep you all updated.

bell hooks and yummy food

I went and saw bell hooks give a talk at my future university today, and I have to say that while I loved her when she was being conversational and sharing personal anecdotes, I wasn't particularly impressed by the more "academic" portion of her talk. While she is undoubtedly brilliant and I love reading her work, I am not too fond of the way that she speaks or relates to an audience when she is reading her lectures. It's somewhat jarring to hear her moving from an "academic voice" to a funny and personally engaging one; I'm not sure if it's because I want to (perhaps problematically) essentialize her as either one or the other (academic vs. empowered, engaging woman), or if I find something unsettling or inauthentic about the abrupt transitions between the voices (and whatever is driving her to speak differently based on what material is being related).

In any case, it made me feel better to know that even someone as legit and amazing as bell hooks can be not the most inspiring lecturer ever (which gives me hope for future me!)

Afterwards, I went and got Ethiopian food (my first time!) at a little restaurant near the campus with AK, Tatiana, Erika, and Susannah. It's definitely very good, and best of all, I think very close to where I'll possibly be living next year...

panic mode ON

So granted this is totally my fault for not being better informed when I applied to grad school in the first place (silly me, I just looked to see where my academic idols were congregated and basically applied on this alone), but now that I've actually read some requirements for my particular program, I am totally freaking out and wondering how I'm going to manage.

1) Apparently while I'm fully funded with stipend for five years, the actual program is supposed to last six or seven. This provokes two reactions:
a) WHERE THE HELL AM I GOING TO GET FUNDING??? MOMMYBANK????
b) SIX OR SEVEN YEARS? AHHHHH!!! I'm going to be an old, withered hag by the time I graduate! (Ok, maybe not really, BUT STILL)

2) By my fourth year, I'm supposed to pass translation exams for two different languages relevant to scholarly study
a) I want to focus on Asian/AMERICAN literature (does English count as a relevant language? hah...hah...hah? DEAD)
b) I currently read NO languages besides English. How am I going to manage to pick up two in four years??? (Man, I better get on that youtube Spanish!)

3) I have a huge oral exam at the end of my first year that's supposed to cover fifty texts
a) I
b) am
c) such
d) an
e) admissions
f) mistake
g) CAPSLOCKPANIC

i love this woman

She says everything better than I ever could



Thanks to Tatiana for the link

porn porn porn (and a lesbian flick)

If you know me well at all, then you know that I have an absolute and unapologetic love for pornography. From my first exposure to the genre my freshmen year of college (yes, I was corrupted quite late. It happened during fall break, when a friend and I were terribly bored and had nothing else to do but take my “porn virginity”), I was entranced, horrified, and ultimately incredibly amused. I don’t tend to think of pornography as being titillating or sexy in the slightest, but I am almost always entertained by the absurd scenarios, campy dialogue, and ridiculous posturing involved.

That said, I have to admit that I’m not such a huge fan of the gonzo/amateur videos that tend to dominate the porn landscape these days. While I can appreciate the types of clips that run rampant on sites like youporn or redtube (and there are gems tucked in these places), I’m much more into the sorts of videos that came out during the “Golden Age” of pornography (approximately late sixties to mid-seventies). Films like Debbie Does Dallas make me smile in the best way possible…they’re funny, cute, and strangely heartwarming, adjectives that I definitely cannot give to contemporary series like "bangbus" or "I am a good daughter" (yes. seriously.)

Yesterday, on the recommendation of my friend Emerald, I downloaded and watched The Opening of Misty Beethoven (1975). I think this might be a new favorite of mine. Without spoiling it too much, I will say that I really appreciated the moments of empowerment that the lead actress had (especially near the end) and that the plot was compelling enough that I tended to view the sex scenes as somewhat annoying distractions from the storyline (this is something that I cannot say about Pirates, the 2005 blockbuster known for being the most expensive porn ever made. While it tries to have a plot, the acting is so atrocious 99% of the time that I was infinitely more entertained by the sex scenes. Though I guess the stilted delivery was good for a few laughs…).

In any case, I would strongly recommend The Opening of Misty Beethoven to any porn fans out there (or at least fans of porn with plotlines. If you’re just trying to get off, I don’t think this is the right movie for you. For one thing, the fact that it was made in the 70s means that contemporary standards of pornographic aesthetics aren’t always followed…in particular, none of the women are shaved, which could be jarring if you expect women to look like pre-pubescent girls).

Afterwards, I had dinner with my friends Evan and Anna, and we ended up watching Go Fish, an artsy-ish lesbian film from the early 90s. It is undeniably low budget (apparently it was filmed in black and white solely to save money) and showcases some pretty bad acting and dialogue. But all in all, it has some really stellar moments (in particular, the main character’s journal entries and a powerful scene questioning what it means to identify as a lesbian). I can’t wholeheartedly endorse the movie given some of its flaws, but if you’re like me and have a soft spot for queer films (and thus tend to be more forgiving in your judgment of them), then I would say that it’s definitely worth checking out.

Today involved attempting to get some work done on my thesis research chapter. Unfortunately, the attempt utterly failed, and I spent my time perfecting my freecell and hearts skills instead (WOE).

vienes a mi casa?

So to reward me for getting into grad school (read: celebrate the fact that she no longer has to support my bum ass), my mother has offered to give me a trip this summer to wherever I want to go. Now I was originally thinking about traveling around Europe (especially considering the only country on the continent proper I've been to is Spain), but lets not kid ourselves, this kind of trip would be no fun alone and Europe is way too expensive (damn you, euro!) for me to expect that I can convince someone to come along for the hell of it.

Luckily for me, my friend Cat has been scheming for months about hitting up Buenos Aires this summer. She studied abroad there last fall, so she's very familiar with the city (and it doesn't hurt that as a native Colombian, she's fluent in Spanish). Our plans are to share an apartment for a month and spend the whole time eating great food, partying, and basically detoxing from college (and in my case, getting mentally prepared for grad school with one last major fling o'fun).

Now unfortunately for me, I don't speak a word of Spanish (aside from choice phrases that I was taught by Cat and Tatiana when we went to Madrid for fall break our sophomore year. In particular: "I am extremely religious. No sex!" and "I'm a prostitute. No sex without money!" Yeah. For some reason, they thought that knowing how to say these would help me ward off sketchballs in da club.)

In any case, I've now got a goal to be conversationally fluent (I use the term "fluent" here very, very loosely) by the time I go to Argentina. To actually achieve this, I've been checking out the "how to speak Spanish" videos on youtube and obsessively writing down and repeating phrases in my spare time.

I'm particularly fond of a video entitled "romance," which I assure you is filled with absolutely priceless gems. I've learned such wonderful phrases as: Veniste solo/sola (Did you come by yourself)? Tienes novio/novia (Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend)? And of course, my personal favorite, vienes a mi casa (Are you coming back to my place)?

With such amazingly useful phrases under my belt, how could I not be ready for BA?

personal growth? or just personal craziness?

I’m currently on spring break (finally relaxing and getting away from the pressures of constant work), and for some unknown reason, I keep finding beauty in the most random and seemingly inconsequential moments. On Monday, I sat transfixed in the student lounge for a good hour or so, listening to a boy play piano in a way that simultaneously made me want to cry and jump out of my seat and rejoice (silly, I know). And today, while hanging out at Starbucks with my friend Sam and attempting to write my thesis chapter, I glanced out of the window, saw a sudden burst of sun illuminating the trees and cars and asphalt, and felt this urge to run out into the parking lot and just dance and dance and dance...

I feel all delicate and fractured, antsy, unsure, and expectant, and I can’t tell if I’m about to go crazy or if some good and meaningful change is finally happening in me. Who knows. All I can tell for sure is that I feel happy and free and looking forward to things for the first time in a long while, and if this is what it means to be growing as a person, then I’m glad that I am. I don’t want to change a thing.

the academic bubble

I was supposed to go into the city and volunteer at SEAMAAC (a nonprofit that works with Southeast Asian refugee/immigrant communities) today, but when I woke up, I couldn't stop coughing, my voice was completely gone, and I basically felt like I wanted to melt into my covers and die (melodramatic? me?). My immediate reaction, and the course of action that I ended up taking, was to email the woman that I work under, explain that I was sick, and suggest a different day for me to come in. I thought nothing of it (granted this was around eight in the morning, and my mind tends to think about nothing anyways), blearily sent out the email, and then promptly fell asleep again.

Now, five hours later, awake and refreshed, I wonder: How much does a sense of (college student-developed) entitlement play into or motivate my actions? I mean, as an undergrad, it seems totally natural for me to skip classes or meetings with professors when I'm sick, expect extensions whenever I'm delayed (even if it's for no good reason beyond my -extremely poor- time management skills), and so on. But how are these expectations going to fly once I'm actually in the "real world"? How am I going to survive when deadlines are strict and non-negotiable and being sick means hauling your ass to work anyways?

I got really concerned about this (and my future survival in the job market) until I remembered that I'm going to be in academia for the rest of my life. Barring my dissertation (which does have that important time limit, considering that after five years MY FUNDING RUNS OUT), I suspect that everything will remain negotiable in grad school. And as a professor, I can (within reason) do most things (like grading papers) on my own time schedule.

While this was obviously a cause for relief, I really wonder, is it such a good thing to never have to learn time management skills? And really, what happens when the only things motivating my output and timeliness are the desire to publish and ratemyprofessor.com?

cold day, warm hearts

Today was an absolutely wretched weather day. The sky vomited rain like there was no tomorrow, and I could barely make my way through the wind without getting somewhat blown away at certain points. I almost didn't go to the International Women's Day celebration/meeting that I had been looking forward to all week, but in the end, I dragged out my trusty new umbrella (and myself, of course!), and I'm so glad that I did because it turned out to be an absolutely amazing experience.

To be completely honest, though, the event didn't start off so well for me in the very beginning. After missing the initial rally and march, I walked into a set of speeches that made me really uncomfortable with their reductive, second-wave rhetoric (a lot of emphasizing "women" as if it was a monolithic category, or worse still, throwing around lines about "minority" and "immigrant" women in terms of "they" this and "they" that). Luckily, my friend and I stuck it out and stayed around for the small group discussions, which were divided up by interests. After a small debate over whether to join the "international" or the LGBTQ group, we decided to go for the latter.

Beyond the really stimulating dialogue and incredibly positive and supportive interactions that were had during the conversation, we ended up getting connected to an amazing woman who's setting up a group for queer and trans women of color (I think I've decided to volunteer with this organization), as well as another woman who told us about a popular hangout for qpoc (and where, incidentally, I'm going to tonight!).

Afterwards, as I was sitting at the train station, I got accosted by a drunken twenty-something for having the amazing foresight to wear a green dress. Apparently some bar has its Saint Patrick's Day bash a week in advance, and this particular man was convinced that I was there (or at least should have been). Luckily we just ended up bantering about random things (including the number of "trust fund babies" at my graduate school that I can take advantage of come fall) for the fifteen minutes that it took my train to get there, and what could have been a bad or uncomfortable situation ended with me walking away with a big, silly grin on my face.

All in all, I'd have to say it was not a bad time for a rainy and dreary Saturday afternoon. In fact, I'd even go so far as to say it was not a bad time for any kind of day at all.

little things that keep me going

I went to an amazing talk the other day given by Celine Parrenas Shimizu, and it really got me excited again about going to grad school and becoming an academic. Shimizu gave what was probably the best lecture I've ever attended. She was engaging, extremely informative/straightforward without sacrificing content, and best of all, absolutely hilarious (she peppered her talk with personal anecdotes ranging from the time she was confused for a whore who could shoot ping pong balls out of her vagina to the time she and her friends were confronted by a group of women in prom dresses for "ruining" their experience of Miss Saigon).

I was so impressed by the talk that I immediately ran out after the lecture (and I do mean ran, because I had a class immediately following) and bought her book (and you should too! I haven't read it yet, but I will as soon as I finish the midterm paper that is, unfortunately, due in about five hours. Oh procrastination!). From what I gathered from the talk, Shimizu attempts to argue for an interpretation of Asian American female representation (particularly in film and theater) that goes beyond the simple good/bad, empowering/demeaning binaries and views performance as a site of agency and negotiation.

In any case, I was extremely inspired by Shimizu and the way that she talked about her research interests. I have a tendency to either sound overly academic (read: incomprehensible) or rambly (read: ditzy and confused) when I attempt to discuss anything remotely theoretical, so I appreciate someone who can deliver complex information in a way that is thoroughly accessible without being watered down.

Now comes the difficult part: Exactly how am I going to get from where I am to where she is? Does grad school involve some kind of miraculous process through which I will emerge from my cocoon of bumbling ineptitude as a beautiful, articulate butterfly..?

ah yes

The one thing that I will undoubtedly enjoy about graduate school: A stipend that is large enough to enable me to live by myself and thus avoid being woken up at two in the morning by my roommate and his girlfriend's amorous cries of lurve.

end of an era

I suspect that when your particular program accepts only a limited number of students each year, you end up being highly invested in making sure that nearly all the accept-ees matriculate. This sets off an interesting and highly delicate process of courtship: fellowships and stipends are offered, egos stroked, and tenure-track hiring records constantly reiterated.

Today, I received personal emails from two faculty in my particular program--doesn't sound like anything out of the ordinary, but then again, you'd have to know me to understand why that was the smartest advertising ploy they could have ever pulled.

See, I've never been one to be any kind of celebrity fangirl. While I admittedly partake in my fair share of gossip websites (perezhilton, dlisted, thesuperficial, anyone?), I can't say that I've ever harbored excited daydreams about meeting famous people or even been particularly moved by their "accomplishments." However, when it comes to academic scholars, the tables are completely and wholly turned. The thought of meeting or interacting with any of my intellectual idols is enough to transform me into the equivalent of a screaming tween at a Hannah Montana concert.

So receiving six polite paragraphs (which, swoon, also contained plans for an actual one-on-one chat during the admissions visit!) basically made my day, and by made my day, I mean made me dance around my room like a ridiculous idiot. At this point, however, I suddenly realized: Dear god, I'm going to have to actually take classes with these two professors. And when that happens, I cannot behave in such an embarrassingly star-struck manner.

I think this basically means that the time in my life where I viewed certain intellectuals as unattainably distant rockstar-gods is over, and that (sadly, sadly!) I'm going to have to start understanding that academics are also, you know, actual human beings.

Woe. I feel like this is the end of my intellectual childhood. Now who have I got to place on a pedestal? (No matter, perhaps I can secretly continue to fangirl the ones that won't be at my program!)

it started with a letter

Dear S:

I am delighted to inform you that the admissions committee of the
English Department at X has accepted your application to our doctoral program, and has nominated you for a Y Fellowship, which provides full support for five years of graduate study. Competition for a place in our program was extremely strong this year; we received xxx applications to our doctoral program, and we expect an incoming class of approximately 11 students.

and so on.

Immediate reaction: Thank god! No more worrying about my unemployable skills! No more looking at my wimpy resume (the culmination of four years of academics at a small liberal arts college and very little else) and wondering how I'm ever going to feed myself! Five more years of academic bubble-time! Hurrah! Thank God!

Second thought: Oh my god. Am I really ready do this?

Third thought: Wait a second...eleven students???!!!!